by DL White
"I'm not fragile," I snapped. Then relented. "Sorry. It doesn't seem like a good idea. It doesn't look like it should work like it does."
"But it does work. You know that, right?"
"My brain does." My bottom lip crept between my teeth. I had to stop, or I would chew the Fenty right off.
"Have you never… ever been on one?"
"Not willingly."
"Not even as a kid?"
I wagged my head. "I'd scream if I even got near one. My family stopped taking me to fairs and amusement parks because the rides scared the shit out of me. I never did the jungle gym. I never climbed the ladder to go down the slide. One year, my family decided to treat me and my sisters to a trip to Disney World."
"Hmmm. Considering that you're still scared to get on this wheel, it doesn't sound like it went very well."
I shuddered, then told him the story that O'Neal loved to tell, that made me sound crazier and more dramatic every time.
"After the first day, if I closed my eyes, I could ride the rides that never left the ground. But those were boring, and my sisters wanted to do the big, scary rides. And my parents wanted to go on them, too. They had to take turns babysitting. Every few hours, they'd switch; one would do some silly kid thing with me, and the other would run the park with the other two. Or I'd follow them all around and hold the bags."
"I'm sorry. That sounds miserable."
"It was. We tried therapy, we tried talking, we tried exposure…"
I shook out my hands, realizing that I was shaking at the memories of my parents trying to force me onto rides. "Eventually, the therapist told my parents to leave it alone. That I would make my way toward certain things, activities places when I was good and ready. They never bothered me about it ever again. Or… anything else, for that matter."
"So the time to move toward certain things is now. Right now?"
I squinted up at the wheel. "I'm sort of second thinking, to be honest."
Trey slipped a hand into his pocket. His gaze had moved from a far off object to something on the ground. "I assumed your list was like a bucket list. I would never have suggested a tit for tat exchange with something so important. Do you still want to do this? You want to back out?"
My head rose, my gaze following. High...then higher, to the top of the Ferris wheel, then zooming in on the two-seater bucket that seemed to swing menacingly, back and forth with momentum, its occupants laughing and shouting, having the grandest time. I doubted I'd be doing any of that.
But I would get on that fucking thing. Today.
"Listen, Trey... I know we've been fighting for the last week and everything—"
"Water under the bridge. For real."
"I need you to promise that you'll hold my hand, and you won't let go, and you won't let me fall out of that bucket thing. And you won't laugh if I scream."
"Gondola. It's called a gondola, and you can't fall out of it unless you force the doors open."
"Whatever. I said what I said. Deal?"
"I cannot promise not to laugh if you scream." My eyes darted to his face, where the corners of his mouth were tipping up into a smile. His eyes danced with delight. "The rest? You got it."
Our turn came sooner than I'd been prepared for. We tucked into a small, contained space that was all windows except for the bench and the wall behind our heads. Thankfully, we didn't have to share it with anyone else. We sat back while the attendant, a friendly but loud, older gentleman gave out instructions before he locked the doors in place.
Unconsciously, my hand shot out for Trey's. His fingers wound between mine.
"Y'all good?" He hollered. "You in?"
"We're good," Trey answered. "She's got a death grip on me. We're not going anywhere."
"You not scared are ya, Lil' lady? It's a whole lot of nothin', just goin' round and round in this box, up and down about four times. This a date, or somethin'? Y'all are dressed real nice for this dirty ol' Ferris wheel."
"Impromptu change of plans for the day," Trey said. Then he gestured toward the doors. "We're ready."
My heart was in my throat, remembering the words round and round, up and down. "You know what? M-maybe I d-don't—"
"All aboard!" He stepped back and called out. Then he pulled the door shut. After a clang that made me jump and a shudder that made the entire car shake, the wheel began to turn, lifting us off the ground.
I couldn't watch. My eyes slammed shut, and I buried my face in the sleeve of his jacket. "Trey…"
"You're not going to throw up, are you? This jacket was expensive."
"No," I squeaked. "I'm scared."
"I'm right here." He squeezed my hand, enclosed in his. I squeezed back. He flinched, howling in my ear. "Ow! Damn, Esme! You don't need to dig those claws into me. I said, I got you."
"You know when I was on the phone when you came back to the car?" I rambled, trying to keep my mind off of this bucket swinging freely in the air. With us inside of it.
"Uh-huh."
"My sister called me. She runs a salon and day spa. Did you find that out, while you were doing all of your information gathering?"
"I wasn't gathering information on you. I was looking into your employer. Your sister runs a salon. Is it nice?"
"Mmmhmm. One of those spots where they serve mimosas and wine while you're getting a pedicure. Do you know what I mean? Jada’s Boutique & Day Spa. It's in Decatur. Have you heard of it?"
Trey was quiet for a moment. He probably thought I was crazy. Then, quietly, he answered, "Can't say that I have, Esme. Does she have male clients?"
"Yeah. Men come in all the time. My cousin goes there. Anyway, she does my nails. And my hair. It's cute when it's not in a bun."
"She's responsible for these claws." I felt him lift our entwined fingers. He must have been closely inspecting the gel nails that Jada applied every few weeks like clockwork. "Both are nice."
"She guarantees the nails are unbreakable."
"I guess that's good for you, so they don't pop off when you break my skin. Seriously, ease up, Esme. I'm right here. You're not going anywhere."
I loosened my grip. A little. My face was buried in the smooth, decadent fabric of Trey's suit jacket. After I got used to the sensation and sound of the wheel climbing into the skies, I let one eye creep open and turned my head so I could see.
I couldn't help the gasp that escaped my lips. Though it was mid-day, the view from above the city through the clear glass front of the gondola was breathtaking. Below, the five Olympic rings set into Centennial Park were remarkable. Straight ahead were the Westin Hotel, Peachtree Tower, the Promenade, the Equitable building, and other glass structures glinting in the bright sunlight amid clear, blue skies.
"Wow," I whispered.
"Imagine this scene at night. My favorite view of Atlanta is when I'm driving from my parents' place up north, and the downtown skyline comes into view. I'm never prouder to live here than when I'm driving through downtown at night."
I had barely taken it all in when the view disappeared, and the wheel dipped, making its first revolution.
"Made it through your first round," said Trey. He elbowed me a few times, knocking me out of my reverie. "How do you feel?"
I gulped, blinking away the fog and finding it easier to breathe. And move my head so I could look around at the view, as we were closer to the ground and heading back up again.
"I didn't die."
I felt Trey's light laughter. I shot him a dirty look.
"You said not to laugh if you screamed."
"I'm screaming in my heart."
"And I didn't promise not to laugh."
He pulled his hand from mine and dropped an arm around my shoulder. The imperceptible tremors that had been rocking my body since we'd climbed inside the gondola subsided. And I could breathe.
"See? You're good. We're good. A few more minutes, and we'll be out of here."
"Yeah, I'm good. I mean, I can't wait to get out of this little box, but I'm go
od."
"So, while I'm busy doing something for you, we could talk about what you'll do for me. And I mean that in the most business-like, not at all suggestive way possible."
"I know what you meant. So what do you want?"
"He needs to come down on his asking price."
"Trey!" I almost laughed in the man's face. "You're asking him to come down two million dollars. This little field trip is not worth that."
"Can he at least go back to what he agreed on with my father? He jacked up the price as soon as he knew I was taking over, and my nose is bent out of shape about it."
"I'll think about it. But I can't go to him off the strength of toast, coffee, and a Ferris wheel ride. Let's ease into this, Mr. Pettigrew."
"Here you go with Mr. Pettigrew again."
I giggled. Which… surprised me, because I'd never been on a theme park attraction and smiled, let alone laughed. I was a hundred feet in the air, in a tiny bucket next to an attractive man who had a protective arm around me.
Let me find out Trey Pettigrew was going to be good for me. I'd never hear the end of it from O'Neal.
"Alright. Something easy." He was quiet for a few seconds, then continued. "How about forty-five days of health and wellness coverage for the employees we have to let go. Now, that should include Employee Assistance like resume writing, therapy, budget counseling, and the like."
"Forty-five days past the minimum that you have to offer them by law if you end employment?"
Trey groaned, tipping his head back against the metal wall of the gondola.
"It's not an added benefit if it's something you legally have to offer. Miller wants ninety days on top of the legal requirement. I could talk him down to half of that number."
"Alright." Trey tipped his head forward again, then gave his best attempt at a side-eye. "You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Whitaker."
I wrinkled my nose. "I don't think I like you calling me Ms. Whitaker."
"Then, you need to drop that Mr. Pettigrew business."
The gondola came to a stop, and the doors slid open. "Y'all make it?" Asked the attendant, poking his head in and offering a hand to help me out.
"We made it!" I almost screamed. I stepped out, resisting the urge to drop to the pavement and kiss it. The ride wasn't bad at all. I still liked keeping both feet on the ground.
Trey climbed out after me, adjusting his jacket. "You good? How do you feel?"
"I feel…fearless." I sighed, stepping back to look up at the Ferris wheel. I was no longer afraid of that giant contraption. "At least for today, I'm fearless."
"Fearless enough to hit the rooftop at Ponce City Market?"
I paused. "Don't get loose. I rode a Ferris wheel. Now you want me to get on somebody's roof?"
Trey's shoulders bounced with the laughter that rolled from deep in his chest. "I'm not trying to kill you, Esme. I need you. But since we're out and we're already playing hooky…" He shrugged. Then smiled. "Might as well ramp up the stakes, start a war and bet that I can beat you at Skee-ball."
"Well, seeing as how I've never played Skee-ball, you probably could. I like to think I make a worthy opponent, but I'm not going to anyone's rooftop—"
"C'mon, Esme," Trey interrupted. "You said you felt fearless."
"In these shoes," I finished, kicking up a foot. "Besides, shouldn't we head back to the office?"
"Why? We're working."
"We're not—"
"You got me to agree to health care coverage for furloughed employees. I don't talk about work on my personal time, so we must be working."
"I mean, I guess. If you want to manipulate it that way. I'm just—"
"Worried about what Miller is going to say. And I told you to stop. Do you ever relax? Let go? Have fun?"
"Yes. When I'm not being paid to be at an amusement park."
"So, it's a no on a Skee-ball tourney, then?"
Trey was an immovable object, standing in front of me at the edge of the park.
"I am not dressed for playing Skee-ball, Trey. From my head to my toes, I'm dressed for the office. Which is where we should go. So I can talk to Miller about health care for his employees, which gets you one point closer to signing your deal. Tit for tat. That's the agreement. Right?"
He sighed, then his head dipped slightly, his eyes rolling up to meet mine. "Compromise?"
I returned his sigh. "What, Trey?"
"We go back to the office. We work or whatever. Tonight? Jeans and tees. Flat shoes. The rooftop at Ponce City Market. Drinks, food that isn't leftover pizza or sushi. I teach you to play Skee-ball. I might even let you win."
I shook my head. "Why would you let me win? Why wouldn't I beat you?"
"You've never played Skee-ball. No way you'll beat me."
"Uh-huh. And this would be another one of your tactics to get what you want from Miller? You use me, butter me up, I feel closer to you, I fight for what you want?"
"Nope," he answered. "Not at all. This would be off the books. A one-off. A hangout."
"A hangout." He nodded. "And I would agree to that… for what reason, Trey?"
"Because it's a theme. Because I'm trying to get to know you. And because you're doing things you've never done before."
Chapter Fourteen
Trey
* * *
When the idea to help Esme clear her list popped into my head the other night, I thought it was flimsy. Weak at best.
I expected to have to talk her into it, to prove the effort was worth her while. Her relationship with Miller seemed to be based on an immense sense of trust. I'd have to bring her over to my side, make her sympathetic to my point of view.
And I'd have to carefully toe the line between playing the game and manipulation. There was no business goal to asking her to have dinner, drinks, and play Skee-ball with me.
I honestly enjoyed her company. Which felt weird because... wasn't she kind of the enemy?
It was well after noon, and midday traffic was thick. Satellite radio weaved through road noise and the sounds of Esme's nails clicking on the screen of her phone.
"Oh, turn that up!"
I pressed the volume knob on the steering wheel. Gladys Knight and the Pips, Neither One of Us, blared through the speaker system. I grimaced and grunted my appreciation into the air, raising a fist.
"Whatchu know about Ms. Gladys and the Pips?"
"My parents take their era of music seriously. I know it well."
"Mine, too. Pops loves him some Gladys Knight."
"And Diana Ross, and Aretha Franklin, and Patti LaBelle… all of the usual suspects. Heard a lot of them growing up. My dad had this on reel to reel."
"Mine too! My mom had it refurbished for their 40th wedding anniversary this year. Those big ass speakers and everything. The sound is crystal clear. He'll bust it out in the summer when they grill out with friends or whatever."
"So, he's the DJ?"
"If you want to hear Midnight Train to Georgia at least three times—"
When the phone rang, I turned the volume down.
"It's one of my sisters. Do you mind if…"
I shrugged. "If you don't mind that I can hear your conversation. Just don't be telling lies about me."
"Hello?" She said, bringing the phone to her ear. "Yes, I'm alive." She laughed, but one of those low, giggly throaty cackles that surprised me. It softened her.
Then I rolled my eyes at myself as I realized that, indeed, the woman laughed. And maybe she hadn't laughed or smiled in my presence because I'd been terrorizing her since we met.
She continued her low conversation while I tried to focus on guiding the Acadia through traffic and tune out the sultry tone of her voice. It didn't work. Her low, dulcet tones permeated my ears and stuck there.
I pulled into the parking lot at Miller Design and parked next to her Jetta. She ended her call and slid her phone into her bag.
"I'm going to head over to my office for the afternoon," I told her, leaving the truck idling. "I'
ve got work stacked up since I've been focused on this deal, and it's giving me anxiety."
"Uhm, Trey? Before you go..." She had one hand on the handle to open her door but had paused.
"You want to thank me for a thrilling afternoon of facing your fears, huh?"
Her eyes rolled as they did a lot when we were together. But she also smiled. It was a thin smile, but it was there. "Actually, yeah. I was talking to one of my sisters."
"The one with the salon? That has male clients?"
"Yeah. She wanted to make sure that I was Ok because they've been trying to get me on that Ferris wheel forever, and I've never gone." She shook her head, tipping at an angle and giving me a quizzical stare. "I don't know what it is about you, but I felt safe up there. Thank you for today."
"You're welcome. That's one thing off your list, right? How many things are there?"
"Ten," she answered. My eyebrows must have betrayed my surprise.
"Do I get to know what's on the list?"
She paused, pursing her lips. I had to stifle a growl. Dammit, man, be cool!
"No. I think it'll be more fun for me if I get to tell you what you'll be helping me accomplish."
"If that's what floats your boat."
"It does."
"You said one of your sisters. How many sisters do you have?"
"Maybe I'll tell you tonight. We're still on, aren't we?"
I'd been thinking of pretending that I'd never asked her to meet me. I wasn't sure that she'd even show up, and the last thing I wanted was to be stood up by a woman who seemed to wield a lot of power—not to mention my future — in her hands.
But the way she glanced over at me, eyes wide, brows raised, a bona fide smile on those thick lips…yeah.
"We are definitely on. Meet me at the elevator at Nine Mile Station at seven. Don't be late. Do you need me to send you Google map directions?"
She huffed, opening her door. "I have already told you to not be worried about what I do and how I get there, Mr. Pettigrew."
"See, there you go. You call me Mr. Pettigrew when you get —" She slammed the door in the middle of my sentence, but I was sure she caught my drift.
Chapter Fifteen